


The Return

by shinythings



Category: due South
Genre: Back to Chicago, Feelings, Introspection, M/M, No Smut, Post-Quest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-18 15:15:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16997436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinythings/pseuds/shinythings
Summary: Fraser and Kowalski return to Chicago after the quest. This is a short exploration of the different relationships between Fraser, Ray Vecchio, and Ray Kowalski. This fic doesn't get into all three of them working together on a case, but I tried (tried being the operative word) to write about what they'd be like when they were all together in the same place and not being shot at.





	The Return

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DesireeArmfeldt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesireeArmfeldt/gifts).



Fraser watched O’Hare get clearer through the window. The tarmac rushed closer, white lines on the runway growing larger with their descent. He felt Ray shift beside him, head lolling against Fraser’s shoulder. About halfway through the flight, Fraser had finally had enough of Ray’s restless mutterings about getting comfortable and had given in to the inevitable and raised the armrest between them.

They had spent weeks together out on the ice, with no company but each other and a pack of dogs, Diefenbaker notwithstanding. Fraser had thought that they were close, a duet as Ray would have it, before they embarked on the quest. But something had happened during the weeks of sledding, tenting, and campfire cooking. They didn’t find the hand of Franklin, but Fraser thought they’d found something else, an easiness that had been hinted at in Chicago but not achieved. Fraser had always known that Ray was strong, smart too. He may not have always understood Ray’s intuitive leaps, but he had to admit that they usually panned out. Seeing Ray drive the sled highlighted his partner’s instinct in a different light, one that Fraser certainly appreciated. He seemed to have an affinity with the dogs, anticipating their needs before Fraser did. Ray developed a routine, checking the dogs’ paws at the end of the day. In turn, the dogs listened to every command he gave them.

Fraser watched Ray wriggle out his clothes and into his sleeping bag every night; the quick glimpses of Ray’s skin followed Fraser into his dreams. He had tried hard to sublimate his desires in Chicago, unsure whether his advances would be welcomed. He had hoped, of course; they never seemed to bother with personal space around each other. Evenings spent in Ray’s apartment on the couch often ended with them both slumped together, Diefenbaker lying at their feet. Space between them tended to shrink, one way or another.

  
Fraser had expected Ray to be vocal during their trip, had expected comments about his back aching from sleeping on the ground, the tastelessness of the gruel they ate, and the fact that what little meat they did eat, they had to hunt and skin themselves. But Ray spent each night content and huddled beside him in their tent, listening to the huffs of the dogs and the whistling wind, and was mostly still and quiet. When he did talk, it was to tell Fraser tales of being a rookie cop and being a teenager who couldn’t seem to stop butting heads with his dad. Ray mentioned Stella too, of course he did, but the depressed air that usually followed stories of their life together had disappeared. Instead, he heard of Stella and Ray at the prom, of their first apartment together and the furniture they picked out. In return, Fraser told stories too, not his usual tales of self-sufficiency, or his father’s lonely exploits, but of camping with Innusiq, being gifted old detective novels by his grandparents, and staying up late to read them by torchlight.

He was brought back to the present by the thud of the wheels on the runway. Ray’s head bounced on his shoulder, usually spiky tufts flattened on the side he’d been sleeping on.

“Frase? Wassit?”

“We’re here Ray.” He felt, rather than saw, Ray attempt to sit straight, his elbows pushing against Fraser’s side. Ray stretched forward, fingers laced in front of him as he tried to iron out the kinks in his back.

“You sure you’re ready, Frase? Not as many wide-open spaces in Chicago.”

Fraser thought about his answer as they walked off the plane and into the airport. Ray was patient, as he wouldn’t have been before the quest, hefting their bags through the throngs of travellers, and through security. The Territories were in his blood; there was nothing like the freedom he found when lying under the stars- tracing constellations he’d learned at his grandparents’ knees. Hiking through the snow with Diefenbaker, crisp air and the smell of pine burning through his lungs were some of his favourite memories. But the Territories were a hard place too- Chicago hardly had a monopoly on social ills. Poachers were least of the criminals he’d encountered whilst on patrol. He was living proof of that- both parents murdered and lover in prison and then on the run. Fraser also knew that the fields of ice and snow were lonely places. He’d managed to get both Rays up there, but Fraser could admit, if only to himself, that he missed non-necessities like the diner near the Vecchio house, and the dry cleaners by the consulate. Besides, now that Fraser was used to company, solitude had lost its appeal.

Besides, Ray Vecchio was back now, and Fraser missed his friend. Ray’s time as Armando Langoustini was sure to have been difficult for someone who was used to having family underfoot and had spent his whole life living in and loving a single neighbourhood. Fraser had always envied Ray’s family life, the bustle in the Vecchio home was simultaneously soothing and overwhelming. Ray Kowalski had a life in Chicago too. Even if he was no longer enamoured with his ex-wife, he’d finally reconnected with his parents.

  
Fraser walked towards the terminal’s exit with Ray Kowalski, bags slung over their shoulders. He spotted a sign in the crowd. ‘1 Canadian Mountie + 1 Fake Italian’. Ray Vecchio stood by the barrier with Francesca beside him. He could tell the exact moment that Ray Kowalski spotted the sign, mostly from the spluttering and the single-finger salute.

“You know Ray, I think I am ready for Chicago.”

***

“Hey Benny! How’s it shakin? You lick any moss?” Ray Vecchio’s smile was wicked as he turned towards Kowalski. “Stanley, fall down any holes recently?”

“Oh har dee ha ha, like you did any better. Make yourself useful and grab a damn bag.”

Francesca Vecchio pushed past her brother and Kowalski, eyes rolling as she flung her arms around Fraser, bags and all. “Frase! You’re really back! Where’s Dief? Is this all you brought with you? We missed you so much! Ma’s made you lasagne.”

Both Rays seemed to roll their eyes in unison.

“I am indeed back, Francesca. Diefenbaker is travelling down in a few days; he’s spending time with my sister Maggie- he seems especially enamoured with her, but as you know he’s always shown a marked appreciation of blondes. I’ve certainly missed our conversations. You see, I’ve only been speaking to Ray and Diefenbaker for the past month.” Fraser ignored the indignant squawk from his partner as he extolled the many virtues of Ma Vecchio’s lasagne.

“Jeez, Frannie, give it a break and quit hogging the Mountie,” Ray Vecchio placed an arm around Fraser, “Benny and me, we got some catching up to do.”

Vecchio listened to Fraser wax poetic about the North- the snow and cabins and dogs, all the while noting the new strands of grey in his hair, and the smile lines around his mouth and eyes. Christ, but Vegas had taken away a whole chunk of his life. Missed birthdays and piano recitals for Maria’s kids, Ma Vecchio getting older and Frannie getting louder, but somehow none of it hit as hard as seeing the differences in Fraser.

He supposed he’d changed too. His hair was a bit thinner than it used to be, no matter what Stella said. Ray had never thought of himself as the kind of cop to keep working when he could have retired, but once he’d quit being the Bookman, the 27 seemed like the best place to start learning how to be himself again.

Speaking of being himself, Ray looked into the rear-view mirror at Kowalski- the man who had been him for so long, as he drove them home towards lasagne and wine. Why the brass thought a skinny Polish cop had been a good replacement, he’d never know. But Welsh stood by his men, and apparently that included Kowalski by the time Ray’d gotten home. Ray had pulled Kowalski’s file, of course he had. Had to know who’d been keeping house for him, who he’d left Benny with. There were the citations, sure, but there were also the rumblings about Kowalski’s attitude. His personality was as spiky as his god damn hair. But hey, Benny had put up with him, hadn’t he? And Ma had been dealing with Tony living in her house for years, so one loudmouth cop pretending to be Ray couldn’t have been much more trouble.

Eyes darting between the road and the Buick’s mirror, Ray Vecchio watched Ray Kowalski laugh at Frannie in the back seat of his car. The hair was still as annoying as he remembered, but Kowalski’s face had lost some of its tenseness. The man didn’t look like he was waiting for someone to tell him he’d shown up where he wasn’t welcome. Stella’d told him that Stanley wasn’t all bad- they’d been happy together at first. But their jobs worked against them, facing off in court and long nights just made the cracks between them wider. They’d been from different worlds to begin with, but they’d fought to make it work. In the end though, they just fought.

Ray heard Fraser cough. He’d noticed Ray’s focus on the person in his back seat and raised an eyebrow. Ray just shook his head and smiled as he pulled up to the Vecchio house. He’d missed the ease he had with Fraser, had never had a partner quite like him. Ray had done a lot of things as the Bookman that kept him up at night. You couldn’t just forget the fact that you had OK’d having someone’s legs broken, couldn’t erase the fact that you knew people were being killed while you had to play a part, even if you hadn’t given the order yourself. But Benny was the guy who gave people money (even if was Ray’s money) just to help them out; he was the one who helped kids save their parents and jumped out of windows to stop kidnappings. It was funny, Ray used to find Fraser’s ridiculous stories about his father annoying, but while he’d been Armando, he’d missed even those moments. Benny might have been the most irritating man on the planet, but Ray wouldn’t change him for the world.

***

Maria’s kids were already waiting outside. Kowalski watched them swarm Fraser as soon he got out of the car. Watching Fraser with kids never got old. He was always so buttoned up and proper, you didn’t really expect him to break form and get goofy, but he did. Ray’d watched Fraser with Janet Morse’s kids, the way he’d bent and blown raspberries and pulled faces. He’d been realer then, like someone Ray could touch. It’d been like that out on the ice too. Fraser of the North did things like snore, play with a hole in the sleeve of his sweater when he wasn’t thinking, and throw snowballs at Ray with a shit eating grin that showed off his one crooked tooth. You knew you were screwed when a crooked tooth was that attractive. Fraser was beautiful, he knew that. He’d known that in Chicago. What he hadn’t known was that Fraser at home, covered in snow and grinning, was fucking devastating.

They walked into the Vecchio house, and Ray saw Stella standing by the coffee table. Fraser’d mentioned that Vecchio and Stella had started getting serious. Fraser’d approached Ray like a skittish animal in their hotel room, before the flight to Chicago, afraid that Ray would bolt at the sudden, unexpected news. Or maybe he’d been afraid that Ray would scream and rant and throw things. Given how Ray’d behaved when Stella was seeing Orsini, Fraser’s concern wasn’t exactly unwarranted. He’d taken a long, hard look at himself after the Orsini case. Ray’d seen way too much of himself in the bomber at Stella’s apartment. Stella told him that he knew where the line was, and sure he’d never shown up screaming at her work, but fuck if he hadn’t followed her on her dates. Who did that? Stalkers, that’s who, assholes like Dwayne fucking Weston who thought that if they couldn’t be with their wives, well then no one should. Ray was supposed to keep people safe from them and put them away, not fucking become one of them.

He scrubbed his hands over his face- he needed a shave. Well, might as well bite the bullet.

“Hey, Stel. How ya been?” She looked good, happier, was smiling like she used to before things went to shit. Vecchio was clearly doing something right.

“I’m good, Ray. You’re looking…different.”

“That your polite way of sayin' I look like a bum? It’s the beard, ain’t it? I didn’t think to shave before we left, kept me warm”

“Well…less bum, more mountain man. I still can’t believe you volunteered to spend a month out on the ice with a pack of dogs.”

“Yeah, well. Decided to try something new.”

Ray saw her eyes flick over to where Fraser was standing with Vecchio, heads bent together and chatting a mile a minute. Her eyes glinted with mischief, and then softened.

“I know exactly what you mean. Did you like your change?” Stella looked at Ray knowingly, but then she’d always known everything about him, usually before he figured out those things for himself.

“Yeah, the um…ice…was good. We might go back next winter. Lots of space to think out there. Gave me perspective. I just…I want to say sorry for being a prick about the split…'bout how I acted after. I was an ass…worse than. I just…you’re your own person and I know that and I’m happy that you’re happy.”

Stella looked surprised. “That’s... Thanks Ray. I am happy, actually. Happier than I’ve been in a long time.”

Frannie showed up out of nowhere, linked an arm through one of Stella’s and dragged her off to a corner to talk about god knows what. Ma Vecchio was sitting in a corner of the room, every bit a queen surveying her kingdom. On Ray’s first night as Vecchio, he’d sat down with her as she went through every photo album she had and talked through her son’s life. Now, she patted the seat beside herself and motioned him to sit, just as she had then.

“Ah Stanley-Raymond, it’s good to see you. Did Benton take care of you on your adventure? Come, tell me all about it.”

Ray told her about falling into crevasses, and about how Dief kept tripping after one of the sled dogs, Navy, like a daft pup. He told her about seeing the Northern Lights blaze across the sky and putting up a tent with the wind howling and threatening to flatten it as soon as they’d set it up.

He kept talking all the way to the dining table, where there looked to be enough lasagne to feed a bloody army. Fraser sat across from him, his boots knocking against Ray’s feet. Ray felt something ease in his chest. He’d worried that Fraser had only come back to Chicago because he thought Ray couldn’t cope without going back. But seeing Frase here, surrounded by a bunch of people who were so obviously happy to see him, Ray thought they’d made the right decision.

“So Benny, you got a place sorted? Or are you going to stay in the consulate again? You know you can always stay here.” Ray jerked his head up when he heard the question from Vecchio.

Fraser rubbed his eyebrow as he looked across the table at Ray Kowalski. They hadn’t talked about what would happen when they got back to Chicago, but Ray thought they were finally at the line- the place where they were gonna stop ignoring the sparks flying between them. “Thank you kindly Ray, but I’ll be fine. I was not planning on taking up residence in the consulate. Actually, I thought I’d stay with Ray. If that was alright, of course?”

“Yeah, Frase, course it’s all right, you freak. Mi casa is your casa.”

“Oh yeah?” Vecchio smirked at Ray. “You think Kowalski’s place is big enough for the two of you?”

“Oh yes, Ray. I’m quite sure that Ray will make space for me.”

Ray felt his ears heat at the looks that half the table were giving him. “Yeah, Frase. I always got space for you.”

***

Fraser had been walking around the station with a dopey smile on his face all week, and Kowalski had hardly been better.

When Ray Vecchio visited Benny and Kowalski a week later, he finally got why. It was in the way the boots at the door were a jumbled mess of two different sizes, the fact that there was a teapot on the kitchen bench next to the coffee maker. Plus, he did some snooping and saw Fraser’s old, tatty sweater lying at the foot of the bed. In the only bedroom.

  
When Ray got home that night, and slung an arm around Stella, he smiled. He’d been worried about how things would work out, about egos clashing and people hurting. But it looked like things had finally worked out. He was happy, and Benny seemed happy too. Now all that mattered was hanging onto what they’d found.

**Author's Note:**

> If the lovely person who this fic was created for enjoys it, I might have a go of making it part of longer story with Fraser, Vecchio and Kowalski working a case together- with feelings and possibly sexy shenanigans.


End file.
